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#i have to die i won’t but i have to there’s no use for me for anyone besides growth so if i die i’ll be accomplishing something good
weaselmcdiesel · 2 days
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ok so it's not a comic hope thats ok with you but instead it's karkat n nepeta but designed by someone whos madly in love with them both
some more au explanations + transcript beneath the cut
they're maybe around 30-40 yo? This was mostly just an exercise to give both of them adult designs. uh. i'm only calling it an au because I made bs some explanations behind their designs while i was drawing them. so uh, in this universe, sburb never happens + things that happened because of sburb don't happen either, but the alternian society is relatively unchanged. i dont actually know.. what.. karkat does.. like i cant figure out why he wouldnt be culled but it doesnt really matter i just wanted to draw him looking cool! (i am. open to hear about speculation if you have any). also i figured that Kanaya would go to the brooding caverns after her lusus dies, bc the wiki said her lusus would die regardless of the game taking place n whatever, and probaly do something with the matriorb there idk. thats all tho! ill prolly draw them more and maybe develop more lore as i do ^^;
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Transcript!
i don’t know what their dynamic is in the canon of this au… but that won’t stop me from making them kiss :]
The Vigilant adult karkat on alternia
new highly developed shoosing skill
honestly has a calmer demeanor because he’s learned what’s worth exploding about… though he probably developped a crazy resting bitch face
pleased (arrow to karkat with a neutral face)
The sash doubles as a sling for when he visits Kanaya in the brooding caverns. He’s also very tranquil around grubs because they don’t cause unmanageable problems. He’ll get mad if someone else bothers one
(yes i’m obsessed with dilfkat that’s why i drew this)
The Predator adult nepeta on alternia
Taller than karkat <3
still a silly goober, but better at getting what she wants
she probably got her title from a history of single-handedly slaying fearsome lusii. she likely takes assassination type of jobs because of her stealth. one of the more easy-going trolls from the group
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also! fun fact. i was having trouble designing kk's outfit so i looked in an old antiques catalog book from the internet archive to get inspiration from objects that had the same colors as those that i wanted to use in his design? not sure why i did that. just had a hunch that it would be fun. so this is the object i found that strangely enough inspired kk's fit
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haha.. and i also found one for nepeta, though it was easier to design her fit and i didnt actually need a reference object
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the book was "Antique Trader antiques & collectibles 2009 price guide"
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amongemeraldclouds · 2 days
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Ruin The Friendship
A letter gets mailed to its intended recipient. A letter confessing your feelings. A letter you never meant to send.
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Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader
Warning: fluff, no use of y/n
Author’s note: My final entry for the Hogmarch challenge, prompt five. This was such a fun challenge, thanks for hosting @thatdammchickennugget ♡ 1k words.
✿ Masterlist
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“What letter? I didn’t have any mail to send, Daisy,” I ask our house elf as she updates me about the chores she’s done for the day.
“The letter beneath your bed. Daisy found it and to thank you kind miss for saving Daisy from your father’s fury yesterday, Daisy went the extra mile to send it,” she announces proudly.
“You mean,” I whisper, a sinking feeling growing in my chest, “the letter containing my deep and honest thoughts and feelings, about the boy I love, that I swore to myself I would never - and I mean never - send?” I exhale, feeling the edges of a panic attack creep in.
Daisy frowns. “Sorry miss, Daisy did not know. Daisy thought she was helping,” she apologizes, cowering in the corner.
“Stand up, Daisy. I’m not going to hit you,” I reassure her. “But I could hit myself so I don’t have to attend class tomorrow and face the mortifying events that are sure to follow.”
I jump up from my bed and nod, waving my wand. I could do that.
“Miss, please!” Daisy pleads. “Don’t hurt yourself. It’s Daisy’s fault,” she hisses. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid Daisy!” She chides, punctuating each word by banging her head against my drawers.
“Stop, Daisy,” I reach out, touching her shoulder. "Fine” I sigh, “no one is hurting themselves.”
I am just going to have to go to school tomorrow and die from shame.
The letter
My sweet Enzo,  It’s ironic you admire me for my bravery for taking down our childhood bullies and for being one of the top students in our DADA class. Yet here I am in a moment of weakness, thinking of you. Actually, even when I feel strong, defeated, or happy, I still think of you. In an ideal world, I’d be brave enough to tell you face to face. But we live in an imperfect world where hearts can break and relationships end, far more often than anyone would like. So if it saves our friendship, I can and must lock my heart away. I wish I can tell you when or how it happened, but I myself don’t understand. All I know is that I’m hopelessly in love with you. There, I said it.
The aftermath
I peer into Enzo’s dorm, head snaking past the door.
Please, please, please, let it be vacant. Let it be vacant, I chant in my head.
I sigh when silence greets me and move the rest of my body inside, sagging against the door in relief.
What are the odds that Enzo has already read a letter that just arrived this morning? He’s probably at quidditch practice, which means I still have a shot at saving myself from utter mortification. And more importantly, to save our friendship.
I scan his room and hurry towards the table littered with books, dried ink splotches stain the oak wood. If the letter were anywhere, it would be somewhere he—
I yelp when a door opens and turn towards Enzo stepping out from the bathroom with damp hair clinging to his scalp, water dripping down his sculpted chest, running along his toned abs. All hail quidditch.
He clears his throat and I bite my treacherous tongue - the one that unconsciously moved across my lips. Salazar, if I don’t get my act together, I won’t even need some stupid letter to reveal my feelings.
My cheeks burn as I return my gaze to his amused expression. “What the hell are you doing here and why are you naked?” I accuse. That’s right, I’m just blushing because I’m angry.
He adjusts the towel across his hips and I turn away, shoving the image of his toned figure from my mind, trying not to imagine whatever else is beneath his towel. “First of all, not naked,” he states.
“And more importantly, you’re asking me what I am doing, taking a shower, here in my dorm?” he points to the floor for emphasis. I wince and kick myself internally.
“I thought you’d be at quidditch practice,” I try. “I just - I just lost something and thought it might be with you.”
“What is it? I can help you look,” he offers, moving towards me and I step back.
“Enz please, put some clothes on first!” I plead, reminding myself to breathe.
I stop midstep when I feel something cool and solid behind me and I realize I’ve backed into a wall. Why the hell is Enzo prowling towards me like I’m his prey?
I close my eyes when he stops just in front of me, heat radiating from his body. I will myself to disappear, to fuse with the wall, to—
“By any chance,” he starts, “the thing you’re looking for. Is it white and made of paper—”
No, no, no, no, I chant this time, my eyes opening to stare at him in horror.
He continues, “the one with your handwriting scrawled inside?”
All the words leave my mind.
He smirks, “it would be a shame if you lost it and wanted it back because I rather liked it.”
“Y-you do?” I whisper.
His smirk gives way to a warm smile. “Darling, you’re more courageous than I am and I still admire you for your bravery. You managed to write it. Here’s my response: I love you too.”
“Well technically, I never meant to send it. It was Daisy,” I try to explain.
“So I have Daisy to thank. I’ll bring her flowers next time,” he says, making a mental note before continuing. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time too, but I was also worried it could ruin our friendship if you didn't feel the same.”
“Now that we’ve established we feel the same…” I begin but trail off when he rests his arm on the wall above me and leans in. My breath hitches.
“I won’t need my clothes until much later,” he ends my sentence.
It’s not what I was going to say but the second I open my lips to protest, his mouth crashes into mine and nothing else matters.
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jl-micasea-fics · 2 days
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Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh
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𝙭𝙡𝙞𝙭. 𝙞'𝙢 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙙
! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !
「Contents List」 「Act 1」  「© March 2024 by jl-micasea-fics」
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She finished work two hours ago. He can’t put it off any longer.
His loitering in the bookstore—a place he would argue is much designed for loitering—loses its novelty when his already blistered feet begin to ache. He scopes the city streets to find further employment, but three coffees from three different cafes soon inspire altogether different urges—ones he’d rather see to in the comfort of his own bathroom.
As he enters the apartment, he hears—to coin her term—culinary chaos. Pots and pans clang, a tempting sizzle leads him to the kitchen, where the girl he’s been thinking about all day despite his very best efforts appears to be cooking.
Thoughtlessly, he approaches, peering around her. A frying pan of steak, butter and garlic simmers on the induction hob. She startles on his presence, almost tips the pan until he steadies her elbow.
“Hi.” She blinks up at him.
He swallows. Lets her go immediately. His fingertips burn. “You’re cooking?”
“You’re always telling me I should try.”
“You couldn’t have started smaller?”
“When have you ever known me to do that?”
“Fair.”
In a summery, loose dress befitting the sweltering weather, he wants to point out she's not dressed for cooking, especially where hot oil is concerned. So much skin is on display; her smooth chest, her arms, her lovely neck. His face flames; he busies himself with a glass of water.
“How was your day?” she asks.
Hell. Yours?
“Fine. Yours?”
“Same. Supervisor Jin wasn’t in though, which was nice. We got to choose the playlist.” She grins— Minho can’t bear fucking it. How is she so okay? Did she not cry? Did her heart not tear down the middle like his? Does she really not care?
He slams the empty glass to the counter. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Want me to bring you a towel?”
Fuck this.
“Do you not remember what happened last night?” Minho snaps.
Her face falls. “Of course I do.”
“Really? Because you’re just acting like—” He gestures vaguely. “Like nothing’s changed. Like we’re still best friends, and we’re still—”
“Are we not best friends? You called it off to save our friendship, didn’t you? Or did I misunderstand?”
“N— No. I did. I mean; that was one of the reasons. I just didn’t expect you to be so... fine.”
She blinks. Her face is bathed in a stream of afternoon light, and like a diminishing veil, he sees her eyes glistening, her chin quivering, her cheeks aching with the force of smiling.
“I’m not fine.”
Her voice breaks. Tar oozes in Minho’s gut and squidges through his intestines, cramping everything. He wants to die.
“I’m so far from fine I don’t know if I'll ever be again, but I'm trying. I’m trying to just... get through the next hour. I’m trying.”
She cries, and he feels like his world might end. It’s always been this way. He can’t fucking stand it. Can’t stand her pain, her secrets, her issues—
“Would you rather this instead?” She swipes her damp cheeks. “For me to be miserable?”
“No. You know I hate it when you cry.”
“I don’t want to cry. Fuck, Minho— I just... I want to be better. I don’t want to be like this anymore.”
“Like what?”
She shakes her head. “I want to be the girl you could actually stand to be around.”
“Don’t say that. Please, don’t. It’s all wrong. This is all fucking wrong. I just wanted to understand you. To make sense of this disconnect. But you won’t talk to me. I feel like I’ve lost you and I don’t even know why.”
She boldly steps towards him, takes his hands and holds them to her chest.
“I know you don’t understand, and I’m sorry. One day you will. I hope. But I’ve got to get better, Min. I’ve got to learn how to manage all this. I’ve got to be kind to myself. I want to be able to tell you everything without worrying that the truth will force you away from me. I want to share my thoughts with you without all the shame. To open the box and show you what’s inside without being fucking terrified of it.”
Minho stares. Her hands are cold, her chest warm. He feels the pulse of her heart beneath her skin.
“I’ll get you back, bestie,” she whispers. “Count on it.”
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𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 >
𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙? 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚 ♡ >
< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >
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starsreminisce · 2 days
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When examining the context of Lucien's statement "I am a mated male" now, it's essential to consider everything that preceded it. Lucien's desire to reach Elain predates his deterring Ianthe. Upon his return from the Spring Court, he already had a plan to reach Elain, recognizing that Feyre was the most direct route to her.
Lucien's assertion that he is a mated male stems from the reality that he is indeed mated, and his mate has endured something traumatic. She is now with someone who held his mind and threatened to harm his mother.
Someone who Feyre kept insisting manipulated her.
ACOMAF:
Lucien was shaking his head, panting, and whirled to us. “Get her back,” he snarled at Tamlin over the ranting of the king. A mate—a mate already going wild to defend what was his.
Lucien spun toward me, and that metal eye whirred and narrowed. Centuries of cultivated reason clicked into place. I was not panicking at my sisters being taken. I said quietly, “We will get her back.” But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.
“How did you break free of his control,” Lucien said flatly from behind us. Tamlin gave him a warning growl. I’d forgotten he was there. My sister’s mate. The Mother, I decided, did have a sense of humor. “I wanted it—I don’t know how. I just wanted to break free of him, so I did.” We stared each other down, but Tamlin brushed a thumb over my shoulder. “Are—are you hurt?” I tried not to bristle. I knew what he meant. That he thought Rhysand would do anything like that to anyone— “I—I don’t know,” I stammered. “I don’t … I don’t remember those things.” Lucien’s metal eye narrowed, as if he could sense the lie.
“Forever,” I parroted, glancing behind—to where Lucien stood in the gravel drive. His gaze on me. Face hard. As if he’d seen through every lie. As if he knew of the second tattoo beneath my glove, and the glamour I now kept on it. As if he knew that they had let a fox into a chicken coop—and he could do nothing. Not unless he never wanted to see his mate—Elain—again. I gave Lucien a sweet, sleepy smile. So our game began.
ACOWAR:
I wondered what Lucien truly made of it. And the fact that the collateral in her friendship with Hybern had wound up being his mate. Elain. We had not spoken of Elain save for once, the day after I’d returned. Despite what Jurian implied regarding how my sisters will be treated by Rhysand, I had told him, despite what the Night Court is like, they won’t hurt Elain or Nesta like that—not yet. Rhysand has more creative ways to harm them. Lucien still seemed to doubt it.
I studied the broad, tan hand wrapped around my elbow. Then I met one eye of russet and one of whirring gold. Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” I knew who he meant. I shook my head. “I don’t know. Rhysand has a hundred places where they could be, but I doubt he’d use any of them to hide Elain, knowing that I’m aware of them.” “Tell me anyway. List all of them.” “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.” “You couldn’t see that he had me in thrall. You let him take me back.” Lie, lie, lie. But the hurt and guilt I expected weren’t there. Lucien slowly released his grip. “I need to find her.” “You don’t even know Elain. The mating bond is just a physical reaction overriding your good sense.” “Is that what it did to you and Rhys?”
Ianthe lifted her head, scanning my unsure, if not a bit aloof, face. “So you could be with them forever. And if Lucien had discovered that Elain was his mate beforehand, it would have been … devastating to realize he’d only have a few decades.” The sound of Elain’s name on her lips sent a snarl rumbling up my throat. But I leashed it, falling into that mask of pained quiet, the newest in my arsenal. Lucien answered, “If you expect our gratitude, you’ll be waiting a while, Ianthe.” Tamlin shot him a warning look—both at the words and the tone. Perhaps Lucien would kill Ianthe before I had the chance, just for the horror she’d put his mate through that day.
I asked Lucien to escort me, and he’d been more than happy to do so, given that his own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days. And given that Ianthe had been trying to corner him all day to ask about what had happened at the ceremony.
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smallsilvermoons · 24 hours
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I’m not ready to accept it but I’m becoming more and more convinced that luffy will be the straw hat that dies
We have:
The fact that devil fruit users can’t/have trouble going to laughtale like w buggy and toki (ty @tamathestoryteller for reminding me!!)
Rogers dream before he died
The fact that nika ‘died’ for 800 years
but also I think usopps reaction to luffys true dream is really revealing. we know obviously that usopp believes in luffy wholeheartedly (alabasta) and we know he has NO problem with impossible dreams, honor, or completely wild ideas. but luffy reveals his dream right after wano, the arc where usopp who often parallels luffy, said that he would do anything to keep living because that is how you achieve your dreams: you stay alive. so of COURSE usopp would have a problem with luffys dream if it included death/he thought it would lead to death. if it’s an accepted fact within the strawhats, which i doubt, it’s possible perhaps because they’ve always accepted that you forfeit your life when you chase your dreams, and they accepted that for luffy.
if it’s not known fact, we’ve seen time and time again as early as arlong park that luffy needs other people to thrive. especially with vivis recent turmoil and possibility of rejoining the crew , and how much she taught luffy about being a captain, Zoro often leading, etc. luffys role on the crew is obviously irreplaceable to them, but from a completely practical standpoint, Luffys practical use is as the captain for decision making and the main fighter, things that won’t matter as much after laughtale.
also I mean come on. that smile seemed accepting of the end to me?? and then the themes of death and rebirth in one piece are so prevalent. it feels like Roger’s legacy, dr hiriluks speech, and all the people luffy saved will tie in, ESPECIALLY with the way all the asl brothers have “died” once. Luffy might die, but a man never dies until he’s forgotten, and freedom/luffys legacy in those he’s saved will never die. plus the way Luffy is CONSTANTLY gambling w his life: the entirety of impel down. gear 2, marineford, the poison and fights in wano, rlly ever major fight he’s had does not lend itself well to Luffy living a long life
alternatively, the rest of the crew could die and luffy will journey alone but that’s too painful to think about !
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cocteaucherry · 2 days
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trials and tribulations .3
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summary- falling in love with your sworn enemy was not something you planned.
cws- p&p au/ bridgerton au, inaccurate use of regency language, 18+, misogyny, sexual tension, future smut in later chapters, slow slow burn, LENGTHY descriptions, ooc Suguru, suguru x f!reader, talks of f!masturbation , not proofread
a/n- awkward silence when I up and left for 22 days with no explanation, I’ll touch more on that in a later post but for now enjoy!
taglist @mandysfanfics, @ti-mame, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer
The rain belted on the glass as you stood on the other side watching as the world washed away.
You felt as if you needed a cold bath, something to wash the prints of Suguru Geto’s touch off your clothes, your hands graced over the areas where his touch lingered.
Why did you feel deprived of his touch? Why did you need his touch?
“Miss l/n I’m sorry to interrupt-“
He was caught off guard by your small yelp, you had to be more attentive in this house
“Sorry Ijichi! I get lost in thought a lot.” You bowed in apology before he also returned one.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve been more gentle with my approach.” He cleared his throat with a small smile, “It’s getting rather late and the rain hasn’t stopped.. we would offer you a carriage home but the roads have been washed out.”
“I guess I’ll wait for the rain.. or I’ll try to walk.” You shrugged contemplating your options, you really didn’t want to walk especially in this weather.
“Actually, Mr. Gojo has offered you to stay in a spare room for the evening.. we wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”
You smiled before letting out a small laugh, “I’m very grateful.. but I don’t want my mother and father to worry.”
“We assure you that your parents won’t be worried, I’m sure they’d be more upset with us for letting you walk home in this.”
Your eyebrow rose as you crossed your arms, “Forgive me for asking, I know he’s ill at the moment but will I ever get to see him during this visit?” The request came out rather timidly to your dismay but it made Ijichi sweat nonetheless.
“Well-uhm- you see Mr. Gojo wouldn’t want you to get sick as well.” Ijichi was definitely not great under pressure, you noted.
You uncrossed your arms nodding your head, “alright then, I will happily stay in a room until the rain stops.”
“Then you may follow me.”
Your head was spinning with questions, why would Ijichi possibly lie abt Gojo? Why would Gojo invite you knowing he was ill? Your heart ached in your chest, Geto's actions being the one to cause it.
Your stomach dropped and your blood ran cold, if the roads were washed out that means Geto couldn’t get back as well? Was he also going to stay?
You shook your head pushing the thoughts away. Hopefully you’d only encounter him one more time tonight.
❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀
“Suguruuu~ are you listening?”
Suguru was snapped out of thought, he stood before Gojo’s bed, the white haired man staring at him with a sick grin. “Yes… I am.” He mumbled, pushing strands of rain soaked hair out of his face.
“Y’know, for a man who’s supposedly sick you seem rather energetic .”
Satoru smirked, leaning his head back, “I’m just plagued and riddled with sickness Sugu, and it seems you are too..” he pointed a finger wagging it teasingly.
The raven haired male stared blankly at him, crossing his arms, “I’m perfectly fine Satoru, please get some rest or die of pneumonia.” He turned on his heel, preparing to exit, “I’m going home-“
“Yeeesh about thattt- I’m afraid you’re not going home anytime soon, roads washed out.”
Geto froze a vein appearing above his eyebrow, “Am I supposed to stay here for the night?”
“With her yes, maybe if you’re lucky she’ll give you a kind ‘goodnight’” Satoru hummed, staring out the window to see the tumultuous rain belt down.
“Not planning on it, Satoru,” Suguru mumbled, stepping out of the room.
❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀
The rain wasn’t letting up anytime soon.
You found yourself wandering the halls, the occasional strike of lightning helping to guide your way.
You admired the classic oil paintings that adorned the ornate halls smiling to yourself when you found a portrait of a familiar face.
hair as pure as snow with a slightly rounder face and those blue eyes that seemed to bore into your soul.
Although just like usual he was never alone, always accompanied by what seemed to be his shadow.
Dark hair that was shorter with those intense amber eyes.
“Thought you went home miss l/n”
this man truly was a shadow.
You turned to the voice of Suguru Geto, but he looked more undone. Hair slightly wet as it fell past his back some strands stuck to his forehead.
“How come you’re always near or behind him?” You ignored his question pointing your head to the portrait, footsteps echoed as he stood next to you. “How come you never answered my question?”
“Why would I answer you? Why should I?” You spun to face him as he avoided eye contact with you, “You never give me a reason to answer kindly.” You scoffed as you walked impossibly closer to him, Geto’s heart skipped a few beats as he finally made eye contact with your gaze.
He cleared his throat trying to regain his stance (control), “Satoru and I have been together for…awhile, while we both are wealthy, his family is significantly stronger.”
“So that makes you his equal, even possibly a scapegoat.” You stepped back, your eyes quickly shifting to his hand that twitched at your movement.
A grin appeared on his face, “Quite the opposite, I help save his ass on multiple occasions. He’s not the best at keeping his head straight.. or keeping his pants on.”
You choked on your saliva at the sudden mention which caused him to chuckle from his throat, “What? I know a forward woman as yourself isn’t taboo to the mention of sex? Satoru excels at that.”
You felt a blush creep under your skin, “What makes you think that?”
“The way your face visibly became uncomfortable told me that,” his eyes drifted quickly up and down your frame, “I can tell when a woman is.. how do I say this? Frustrated?”
“Frustrated?!-“ you yelled out but quickly covered your mouth to whisper it, “I’m frustrated because you- you’re!-“ you stuttered angrily, scolding yourself for not having a better comeback.
“Maybe you should try exploring your own body first before going after someone like Satoru, just a suggestion,” Geto said, turning on his foot to walk down the darkened hallway.
You had almost forgotten it was raining during the conversation, the soft patter of rain filling your ear drums as you try to reconcile what just occurred.
❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀
You weren’t sexually frustrated, You weren’t sexually frustrated,
You repeated in your head as you buried yourself into the pillows of the way too extravagant bed, “ridiculous, he doesn’t know anything..” you mumbled clasping your hands close to your chest.
You tried to force yourself to drift off to sleep but your head began to pound and your body became warm, the handprints he left on your waist, they still left an excruciatingly burning linger. The way his hair framed his face annoyed you.
His avoidant stare annoyed you. His soft voice annoyed you, his strong hands annoyed you. His sly smirk, His perfect teeth, the way his fingers graced your breasts.
His last words echoed in your head broken by your lust “Explore, body”
You were taught otherwise in your life, should you?
You felt your hands drift towards your panties playing with the hem, would you really touch yourself out of Suguru Geto’s words?
You let out a frustrated groan, you couldn’t let him win.
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whumpsoda · 1 day
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Coming Back to Bite You, Part 1 - Swept Up
Masterlist
Finally putting this out there, hopefully I continue it :) updates will probably be pretty slow and gradual!
cw: vampire whumper, kidnapping, hypnosis, alcohol use, mention of death
———————————————————————
He was going to throw up. 
Marshall gripped the can of beer in one calloused hand, taking an aggressive swig of the beverage, still cold droplets of liquid dribbling over his fingers. His throat bobbed with each continuing gulp, and his stomach churned in a boil of acidic bile. The bitter taste of alcohol coated his mouth, swishing off his tongue and dancing down his throat, until he realized he was going to choke. Marshall’s moist lips released the can with a weak gasp. 
He lazily dropped it to the concrete with a clang, the last sip of liquid slipping And seeping into the cracks of the concrete. With a groan he dug his trembling hands into the skin of his flushed face, bits of dried and cracked blood still crammed in rings underneath his crooked nails.
The sour smell of gore still tainted his runny nostrils, infecting the scent of his several tossed away and half finished drinks. Begrudged tears pricked at his eyes, leaving his vision glassy and wet as he desperately tried to wipe them gone.
He should’ve be used to it. Five plus years of vampire hunting experience should’ve prepared him, but it didn’t. It never did.
Marshall choked back a soft sob, brushing at his face roughly in an attempt to rid the tears stained with embarrassment. He didn’t know why he did it. Why he had for five years, and why he continued to. Why he still didn’t quit after seeing yet another young newbie die a gruesome death at the hand of a monstrous creature, with nothing to do to stop it.
How pathetic.
“Something wrong?”
His limbs froze rigid, the sharp, close words cutting through the nightly silence. He shifted, gaze meeting with that of a small woman seated neatly beside him. 
Her face was shadowed by the light shining upon her back, but he could still clearly see her soft grin and glittering eyes. 
“Um,” he sputtered, gears turning to catch his mind up with his mouth. “Leave, leave me alone.”
She grinned, eerily soft and sweet, tilting her head a smidge. The essence of a mother speaking to her child. “I’d love to help.”
Help? Puzzled anger bubbled bigger in his belly, only strengthened by her audaciousness. “I said,” he snarled, face twisting and seething, his crooked teeth bared in likeness to that of the creatures he was trained to kill. “Leave me alone.”
“Driving home?” 
Marshall groaned, sickly, taking a peek at his tattered old truck sitting in the empty lot. His vision shifted, rolling down to the can he’d placed beside his foot, previously filled with alcohol.
He gritted his teeth, grabbing the can once again and lifting it to his lips as the stranger watched. “Yeah? So what?” He spat, taking a petty sip. 
The woman sighed, her smug grin never so much as faltering. “Just thought I’d remind you.” She huffed, holding back a chuckle.
“Why don’t you just mind your own business?” Marshall grumbled, glaring sharply at the stranger. She simply giggled, dripping with condescension, waving him off. Was it so hard to get five minutes to himself?
“Oh, you are very funny, dear. A bit temperamental as well, I see.” She chuckled again.
What was her problem?
That was it. It was not the time. The stranger obviously didn’t have anything better to do than irritate someone crying in the middle of nowhere covered in grime and vampire blood, and seemed to be having a good time with it. Marshall, on the other hand, was no short of seething.
He pushed himself to his feet, wiping his cheeks of sweat and tears and adjusting his coat. Without another word he stepped to leave.
To his surprise, shocking strength wrapped around his wrist, holding him back and leaving him unable to walk off.
“Oh, please don’t go. I didn’t mean to upset you. Sit back down with me, won’t you?”
Marshall stared back in bewilderment at the woman firmly clutching his wrist. What? Confusion was boggling him, poking at his brain. Was she crazy? Who was she to think he would follow her request? After she’d been practically taunting him when he was obviously distressed?
Though-
He paused. He had meant to snap another insolent response, but nothing came out. Why did he-
His vision swiftly glazed over blurry, fogging up his eyes as they turned glassy and unfocused. Marshall wobbled in his spot, legs buckling and shivering with weakness. The ground spun under him, dizzying his head and coating his mind with wretched nausea. His fingers reached out for something to grab, something to stabilize him.
He needed to sit, he needed to sit, he needed to sit, he needed to sit, he needed to sit-
He lazily stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet, plopping right back into his seat. This time, he was a smidge closer to the woman. Marshall’s head lolled into his hand, catching himself from such dizzying disorientation.
Why was he… back on the bench? Was he not just about to leave? Was she touching him?
Lightly she rubbed in circles over his back, a motion he almost took no notice of. “Sorry about that, dear. It’s alright now.”
“I… what…?” Marshall slurred, his mind still a thick sludge that desperately gripped the walls of his, hopeful not to slip further into befuddlement.
He… he’d felt similar. Before. Marshall knew the sensation well, the sensation of his brain slipping through his fingers like water, liquified and stolen right out from his own control. Stomped to mush.
No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no-
“Very pretty rings you have. Mind if I take a look?” She held his hand between both of her gloved ones, fingers trailing over silver that glimmered in the light.
“Um…”
Not waiting for an answer, the stranger swiftly slipped each ring off each finger, holding them oh so carefully. “Very nice. Very.” She inspected them for a moment, right before turning and tossing them in a garbage bin behind her.
With widened eyes he sputtered, lazily trying to claw for them a second too late. She swept right back into his personal space, forcing him to retreat back with distraction. “Hm. And what might that be?”
She pointed to his pocket.
To his wooden stake, a necessity for vampire hunters.
It couldn’t be-
“I- you, that’s-”
Before he could so much as react, she slipped it right from him with her impossibly quick and nimble hands. “A wooden stake? Silly, silly.” She tisked, ignoring his growing concern and tossing it to the floor. It rolled a few feet away, and with drowsy, draped eyes Marshall watched it crawl out of reach. “You won’t be needing that.”
Please, no-
“You! You- you’re-!” Voice rising with muddled heat, his brain’s realization was catching up with his mouth.
Oh, God-
“Relax. I’m just here to help you. Calm down, dear.”
“N-no… you’re-! Get off me!” He swiped at her outstretched hand, feebly slapping it away.
How could he have been so foolish? How could he have let a vampire so close? How? He’d been so distressed and out of it from that nights job he hadn’t even noticed. What a fool, what a fool, what a fool.
He recoiled, jumping right off the bench and running. With his brain already such a mangled mess he nearly fell over, only catching himself with one hand and pushing himself back up.
His steps were slow and drowsy, swaying arduously and dramatically on his weighted feet. Nonchalantly the stranger stood behind him, taking her sweet time to catch up.
“Go-! Go away! Go away!” he hollered, stumbling around in a growing daze toward his truck, slipping over nothing several times. Her follow persisted. “Go away!”
Her vampiric aura strengthened by the second, taking hold of his susceptible mind and pushing him back into a distant, fuzzy haze. His words were tumbling and quieting, his movements gradually decreasing.
“N- no… no… leave…! Go…”
Soon enough subtle fingers trailed swiftly down his spine, stopping him in place. “Shhh, shhh… relax, dear. Just allow your limbs to go all numb and sleepy.”
His shoulders buckled, jaw falling slack under the immense weight of hypnotic force. Even still, infected by disgusting pleasure, his stomach tensed with sour acid. “Nooo…”
She walked around him, meeting his gaze with sweet, mind melting eyes. “I know you must be scared, little one. My apologies for messing with you, I just couldn’t help it. I’ll be nice now, okay? So be a good boy and just sleep.”
Easy. She’d overpowered him, so easily. Five years of practice and he’d lost just like that. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. How could he not hate himself? How could he not detest the world for such a fate he never deserved? Five years of service and he was going to lose his life at the hands of a vampire?
He’d been so careful.
“Just calm, oh so calm. Your mind settles, all sleepy and exhausted. Just let go for now. I won’t hurt you.” She soothed, cupping his face in her palms.
“Nuh… no… go…”
He didn’t want to let go. He had to escape. He wanted to escape. He wanted…
He wanted…
“Let… go…”
She smiled, warmth spreading through his belly, a blissful, distracting sensation that scattered any coherent thoughts clawing to the edges of his mind. “Good, good. Let go, dear. Just for a bit. You’ll have a very nice nap, okay? It’s all dark out here, which means you must be very tired. And nighttime means you sleep, doesn’t it?”
Marshall yawned, head lolling and body melting. He’d like a nap. He’d been working so dreadfully hard, he deserved one, did he not? A nap would be just wonderful.
“Aw, how cute. You’re so drowsy. Just falling asleep right in my arms, huh? Lovely. An easy catch, weren’t you?” He hummed in agreement, her words flowing through one ear and out the other. He was swiftly floating into unconsciousness, head gradually falling forward into his chest. “Shh… so very relaxed, sleep just holding your putty like mind in it’s hands. Just let go to the call of sleep and exhaustion. I know you want to, dear.”
It was strange, how delightful it felt. He’d been enthralled before, but never so deeply and thoroughly. His brain never so overridden. Why had he ever fought it? Why had he ever rejected such heaven? Marshall couldn’t so much as think of an answer.
Or, think at all, really.
Placing the kind pressure of her hand on the back of his neck, she easily guided the exhausted Marshall’s slick with sweat forehead into the nape of her neck.
“Good boy, good boy. Just let all your worries go. I tried so hard to make this easy on you, I know how easily fussy you humans can get. But everything is fine and calm. Calm and sleepy. Sleepy and relaxed. The darkness of the night makes you oh so exhausted and ready for bed.”
He shivered from the sound of praise, as well as the vampire stroking down his arms and stirring more pleasant feel as he drifted, brain coming to a stop. It felt better than it ever had to fall asleep. He smiled, and so did she. Even in the middle of winter, he’d never felt so pleasantly warm.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” She whispered sweetly, rocking him gently like a small child into an entranced sleep. “I’ll take great care of you, dear.”
———————————————————————
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theladyofbloodshed · 2 days
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Chapter 7 - The Penultimate One
With no signs of sirens blaring towards them or the door being kicked in by the auxiliary units of the city, all Hunt could do was wrap the Horn in a towel and shove it under the desk out of sight. He’d figure out that headache in the morning.
Nesta kept glancing towards it when she thought he wasn’t looking; Hunt caught her often frowning or wrinkling her nose up in its direction.
He pulled out the chair to sit on it backwards. Nesta perched on the edge of the bed, tiredness nibbling at her expression.
‘Tell me what’s going on.’
‘I don’t know,’ she replied, lifting her chin in defiance.
His fingers grazed against her cheek. ‘I’m on your team, Nesta. I want to help you.’
Fluidly, Nesta rose then moved to stand beside the wide windows which looked out upon the city. ‘In my world there are objects from the Dread Trove. The Harp is one. It opens wards. I’ve also used a Mask. I wouldn’t wish it upon my enemy. The world went cold. I-’ Nesta paused a moment. ‘I was being attacked by a kelpie. I thought I was going to die. It was biting me, pressing its face to mine - and the Mask came to me. I didn’t need to breathe or think. An army of the dead rose when I wore the Mask to do my bidding.’
‘A kelpie. Why were you anywhere near one?’
Nesta said nothing, just kept a slight scowl upon her face.
‘I hope they tucked you into bed and fed you ice cream for days after that.’
A light went out in her eyes. ‘No. They did not.’
Hunt couldn’t take the fraught expression on Nesta’s face; couldn’t bear to see her clinging to the cracks to keep from breaking. He crossed the room to stand behind her, his wings cradling around her. A hand rested on her waist as he stood behind her, watching the city with her.
‘There is a queen who was mortal, but – like me – she entered the Cauldron. It was of her own volition, but after I had attacked it. It turned her fae but ancient. She wears the Crown which can gain control of another’s mind. She wants me dead. It is my fault that she was cursed. If I hadn’t sought vengeance on the Cauldron for Elain…’
His hand went tighter on her waist. Between the Asteri, Einar Danaan, and this queen, there seemed no place safe for Nesta.
‘And do you think the Horn is part of that trove?’
On her exhale, Nesta sank into him. ‘It keeps calling to me, Hunt. Its voice is weak and broken but it is communicating.’
As if his arms might protect her from everything that life could throw at them, Hunt wrapped them around Nesta and kissed her temple. ‘What does it say to you?’
‘To use it.’
‘I’m not an expert on fae objects, but do you not have to pay a toll to use them? You haven’t suffered from using them?’
Her fingers rested on his forearms and Hunt wished they could stay that way for an eternity. He had to overcome his shitty life to make hers better; she deserved that.
‘It is said that some have not been able to take the Mask off. I won’t make a habit of using them.’
‘We can ask Danaan what the Horn was fabled to do. The fae like secrecy. I don’t want you whizzing off and landing in a road somewhere else.’ Hunt kissed her temple again. ‘You might end up in a world without waffles.’
‘A true terror.’
Nesta prised herself free then turned to gaze at him. She had to raise her chin an inch or two to meet his eyes, but for a female she was tall. Those long, lean legs reminded him of a dancer. If she stayed in Lunathion and kept up her diet of pure sugar, the harshness of her face would soon soften.
‘You are very calm about this,’ she noted.
‘Four nights ago, a shooting star fell from the sky and changed my life for the better.’ Hunt bopped the end of her nose. ‘I’ll take whatever life can throw at me as long as you’re there too.’
‘You barely know me.’
Hunt laced his fingers through hers then brought them to his chest so she could feel the steady thud of the heart within. ‘My heart knows you. It recognised you the moment we met, like we’d met in another life.’
When Nesta’s lips parted, he thought she might laugh or call him embarrassing for his words. Instead, she rose up on her toes to kiss him.
***
It was late when they settled into the bed. Like the previous night, they moved in together, one body tracing the other’s path. It was Nesta who needed Hunt beside her that night. Despite his words, she could sense the undercurrent of worry within him regarding the Horn. She did not know how it had come to her even after he had returned it to Luna’s temple but she imagined it was similar to the Mask, with even wards being unable to hold it. The trove items seemed to have a consciousness or their own desires. For now, Nesta was a tool they wanted to use so she needed to remember that.
‘Stop overthinking and go to sleep,’ said Hunt, voice hazy with sleep.
‘How did you know?’
‘You stopped stroking my wing.’
Indeed, her fingers had stilled from their path. Once she had discovered that an angel’s wings were nothing at all like an Illyrians, she could not be stopped. Hunt had explained that whilst most didn’t make a habit of touching a malakim’s wings, it wasn’t forbidden. He’d likened it to stroking somebody’s hair and even shared that his mother would brush his wings with her knuckles to ease him into sleep as a child. She found it soothing to stroke the feathers, especially the soft downy ones on the inside.
‘Everything will be alright, Nesta.’ Hunt kissed the back of her neck which sent a shiver down her spine. ‘You’ll be home soon.’
If anything could have sent her spiralling, it was that. They were well and truly different worlds. In Prythian, she lived in Rhysand’s pocket. She was Cassian’s to parade. She had been willing to believe that it was love because she knew no better, had no other options. They had all been taken from her. She’d watched her mother and father’s stifled, loveless marriage that had been arranged by their parents and expected the same. These days with Hunt had shown her that life could be fun. It didn’t have to mean survival. There could be somebody who stood on your team and wanted to be there for every moment.
Hunt groaned and pulled his arm tighter around her. ‘Overthinking.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Do you want to talk?’
‘Let’s sleep,’ she offered.
Hunt kissed her skin once, twice, she couldn’t count the number of small kisses he peppered upon her. ‘Goodnight, waffle queen.’
‘Sleep well, Orion.’
It was Hunt who woke her in the morning. He spoke softly on his cellphone but the words were crass and aggressive; a threat to whoever he was talking to as he made the morning coffee. A shard of light was exposed by the curtains which promised another bright, sunny day in Crescent City. The dawning of each day was a countdown that Nesta didn’t want.
‘For once in your pampered life, stop being a fucking dick,’ Hunt whispered.
Nesta couldn’t make out the quiet voice on the other end as she lay in the bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
‘Fae bullshit,’ replied Hunt. ‘Whatever. I’m heading to the Comitium soon. Your father can cry and scream all he wants, but it’s a fae item and it’s missing from Luna’s Temple so of course the finger will be pointed at your lot.’ A pause. ‘Fine. There’s still a warrant for your father’s address.’
He tossed the phone to the end of the bed then carried over the mugs.
‘What’s a warrant?’
As Hunt jumped, a dribble of coffee sloshed over the side of the mug. ‘Sorry. Did I wake you?’
‘No.’
‘A warrant is an official document meaning we can search a premise. In this case, Einar Danaan is being investigated. Apparently Luna’s Horn is missing. Can you believe it?’
‘Colour me shocked,’ Nesta replied drily.
‘It’s still where we left it. I’ve checked.’ Hunt settled the mugs down then flopped across the bed, covering her legs like an overgrown house cat.
‘What should we do?’
Hunt yawned carelessly. ‘Take a shower together. Find breakfast – there’s a nice little café not far from here – and then get as far away as we can. Pangera, maybe. Or the moon.’
Something about the way he’d said we as if they were in this mess together, like even if it was Nesta’s fault that a historical relic had turned up in the room, Hunt was still on her side and they’d figure it out.
She wiggled her feet out from beneath Hunt to draw her knees to her chest. ‘It’s really bad, isn’t it?’
Hunt gave a short smile. ‘I mean, it’s not great, but it is a little bit funny that Micah has managed to get a warrant from the other side of the world to have Einar Danaan’s home searched. I wish I could see the fae prick’s face.’
‘Is it a common theme across universes that the fae are disliked?’
‘They’re all stuck-up assholes. Except you, of course.’
‘I am not fae by choice,’ she reminded him.
Hunt rubbed his face with his hands. ‘Let’s get your Harp and find a nice corner of the universe where it’s warm and sunny and nobody knows us.’
‘I’d like that,’ Nesta admitted.
Despite what she had seen in Prythian, Nesta had never been convinced that fate was real. There was no such thing as destiny moving two pieces together across worlds. No force tethering souls. And yet, her heart so wanted to believe in it when she looked at Hunt. As a child, Nesta’s ideal husband had been one who left her alone; polite at best, neutral at worst. She had never dreamed of a man who was her equal because those sorts of mortal men did not exist. Her mother had instilled in her that she was an asset and that was all. Even in Prythian, a male was still worth more than a female. It was he who felt a bond, not a female. And Nesta, so stupid and lost, had stopped fighting for her freedom, for her choice, and gave in. She’d become her worst nightmare; her mother’s daughter. For months, she had told herself that beyond lust, it was only irritation that she felt for Cassian. There could be sparks of brilliance, of kindness, but it was extended to anybody – and more often than not, Nesta was the bottom of his priorities. The male she loved shouldn’t make her feel like a problem.
Hunt yawned his way through a sleepy morning, cuddling up to her legs beneath the duvet while Nesta drank her coffee. She couldn’t bear to tell him that she wasn’t a fan of it unless it had whipped cream on top and sugary syrups pumped into it; the fact he made her drinks in the morning was such a low expectation and yet nobody else ever had. Nesta alternated between running her fingers through his hair or his wings whilst prompting him to wake up and drink his own coffee. It appeared that burrowing against her was a more favourable way to spend his time.
Eventually, when Isaiah had called three times, Hunt dragged himself from the bed to shower.
He returned with a towel slung around his hips with damp wings.
‘Where’s the hairdryer?’
Nesta frowned. ‘The what?’
Hunt plucked a device from one of the drawers, careful not to disturb the Horn. It was red with a metal grid over the muzzle. A black cable was wrapped around the handle which he unwound before plugging it in.
‘Oh, you’ll love this,’ he said.
‘I thought it was a gun, like the one you have.’
Hunt tried his best not to laugh at her and failed quickly. ‘Nesta, in this world – probably any world that has guns – they don’t need to be plugged in. They’d not be effective. I mean, I can see why. It looks like one.’
The angel aimed it at her face then pressed a button.
Nesta screwed her eyes shut, bracing for pain, but was met with a loud noise and a burst of hot air.
When she dared open her eyes, Hunt was pointing it at himself, blowing the moisture from his hair. Nesta practically groaned at the sight of it. All of those nights carefully towelling her hair dry and still finding it damp in the morning.
‘What would happen if I used the gun on your wings?’
‘Hairdryer, Stargirl,’ he called over the noise. ‘I’d be all fluffy like a little chick.’
‘Oh, I’m very tempted,’ she said, grinning with a delight that she rarely felt.
Nesta lay back on the bed, watching Hunt dart about the room readying himself for a brief visit to the Comitium. She never thought she’d be the type to be so comfortable sharing such a small living space, but Hunt made everything easy. Nothing ruffled his feathers.
Perhaps because they were the same. Two lost souls searching for another’s hand to hold.
‘I have to go and play dumb about the Horn. I’ll look through Einar’s underwear for the sake of it.’
‘A strange way to spend your day.’
‘I’ve already rifled through yours,’ he shot back. ‘You’ll get a frequent shopper card from that lingerie boutique soon. When I come back, I have a day planned. A final day in Lunathion hitting up all the sights.’
She knew the final day was coming, but it felt a lot like a noose pulling tighter with each passing moment. There had been so many goodbyes that were stolen from her. Nesta didn’t want to say this one. Couldn’t say it.  
***
After putting on his best bored tone and acting as though it was as much a pain for Hunt as it was for the Autumn King to be searching every inch of his home for Luna’s Horn, Hunt allowed himself a little laugh when he got back to the barracks. The king had seethed, demanding to know which informant had planted the information that the Horn might be in his possession – and Hunt had shot him down with about thirty different city regulations about witness protection just to piss him off further.
‘Hunt, you still here?’
Vik called through the door as he was changing, ready for a day of adventure with his Stargirl.
‘One second.’
‘Meet me in my office when you’re done.’
It wasn’t like Viktoria to summon him so, warily, Hunt grabbed another change of clothes and hurried down to her basement dwelling. There were three monitors open and a computer that sounded like it might fly from the churning noise coming from the fan. Polystyrene coffee cups littered the desk.
‘Just the male,’ she said, spinning in her chair. ‘Micah asked me to pull the footage from Luna’s temple. There are no cameras inside which is so not helpful, but I’ve managed to get a picture of anybody who entered or departed the temple within a two-hour window of it disappearing. According to witnesses, it simply vanished before their eyes.’
‘Weird,’ Hunt said with a shrug.
‘Yeah. So, Declan Emmett is running additional tests on the footage and other teams are scraping the images to match them with IDs from our databases to question them. Isaiah’s got another team already speaking to the acolytes at the temple about what they saw.’
Hunt said nothing, just nodded along because this was information he already knew.
‘What’s really weird is like two hours after the Horn disappeared, there was a freak lightning storm that frazzled the cameras for a while.’ Viktoria threw an empty cup at him. ‘Hunt Athalar, I know your lightning.’
‘That’s not my lightning,’ he lied, voice pitching slightly too high.
Vik glared. ‘Oh, terribly sorry. It must have been the other Umbra Mortis who sent all the tech haywire last night.’ She threw her hands in the air. ‘Fuck, Hunt. What are you getting involved in?’
‘What? Nothing. Why the Hel do you think I’m involved?’
‘Uh, because you have a faerie girlfriend from outer space whose Harp went absolutely nuts last night.’
‘Nuts… how?’
Colour dotted her cheeks as she rolled up her long-sleeved top to reveal a painful-looking purple bruise wrapping around her elbow. ‘It shot me across the room when I was working on it. Literally nothing since it arrived. I’ve played every single string, ran every test, and nothing. Except last night. It was like it was excited. A burst of energy threw me into the wall and it was vibrating. Can you guess what time that happened? I’ll tell you, Hunt. A minute before the call came in that the Horn had disappeared.’
Hunt gave an innocent shrug. ‘A weird coincidence, huh.’
If looks could kill, he should be dead.
‘Sorry about your elbow,’ he said gingerly. He scratched the back of his neck. ‘Have you told anyone else about this?’
‘No, because tomorrow, I am handing that Harp and the sword back to Nesta Archeron and she’s going back to where she came from. Isn’t she, Hunt?’
‘Yeah, she is,’ he replied dejectedly.
When he tried to leave, Vik called out to him again and told him to shut the door.
‘Hunt, I’ve noticed a change this last week and I like it. I really do. But this isn’t her home. When Micah returns-’ she cut herself off. ‘Shit, if the Asteri even catch a whiff of her.’
‘I know. She’s going home.’
On the flight to her hotel, his plans for a day of excitement at the adventure park just on the outskirts of Lunathion plummeted to the ground. For a moment, Hunt debated not telling Nesta – but he couldn’t keep her in the dark. It wasn’t fair to do that. It was a thin line between scaring her or being honest, but surely with the reassurance that he was on her side, it would be alright. Hunt told himself that again: it would be alright. He glanced down at his phone as he landed. A text had been sent while he flew.
Dearest Orion,
I miss you.
Yours,
Nesta.
As he expected, Nesta was quiet as he told her. Her face was too guarded to pick up on much. No wonder Isaiah had such a hard time interrogating her when she landed.
The mood had soured so neither wanted to do much – except enjoy the other’s company.
With Tristan Flynn’s credit card still in Nesta’s possession, they walked to the supermarket. Nesta liked pushing the trolley although they only tossed snacks and a few fruits into it. Hunt let her scan it herself at the self-service even if it took ten times as long because she wouldn’t have the chance again.
‘I wanted to take you on a roller coaster today,’ he said as they walked hand in hand back to the hotel. He swung the plastic bag of groceries as they went.
‘I don’t know what that is.’
‘Like a big metal thing with a cart on it and it goes fast or upside down and everybody screams.’
‘A torture device?’ she hedged.
It sounded that way. ‘No, it’s fun. They have cotton candy. You’d love that. Hot donuts. Lots of rides.’
All of these stupid things that he wouldn’t get the chance to show her. He hated it. Hated that their time together had a fucking expiry date that was drawing closer.
‘I wish you could show me everything,’ she said, entering the elevator and jabbing the button with more force than it required.
Hunt heaved a sigh and slumped against the mirrored-back. ‘I wish you could have met my mother. She’d have loved you.’
Nesta did well to hide the few stray tears on the brief walk to the bedroom, but Hunt didn’t draw attention to it. His mother would have loved her. He wasn’t the Umbra Mortis when he was home, wasn’t the bottom-wrung malakh who was rising up the ranks with his brutality. He was just goofy Hunt who made his mother laugh. It wasn’t like Shahar who’d seen his value and concocted a way to use it while holding his heart. With Nesta, he could be just Hunt.   
‘What’s the plan then?’
‘The plan is,’ he said, tugging off her jacket to hang on the hook, ‘we see what crap is on the T.V. and eat our way through this. You can cuddle me, of course, or read your book. We’ll order dinner tonight or go out then back to here. Then I’m cuddling you.’
The smile on Nesta’s face was almost shy as she turned to him. ‘Before I leave, there is one request that I have.’
‘Anything.’
‘Can we wet your wings then fluff them up with the hairdryer?’
Hunt cupped her face then squeezed it. ‘It’s a good job that I like you.’
There's one chapter left then an epilogue. Where the story broke POVs in the first half is where there will also be a smut insert so either you can read it or not :-)
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jewish-vents · 2 days
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first - i just want to say thank you for making this blog. it’s so important to know that we aren’t alone in the many things we’re experiencing and feeling right now, especially when so many of us have become painfully isolated as of late.
i apologize for how long this one is going to be.
i’ve been feeling so, so alone recently. my tumblr dash has been cut down to just a handful of jewish blogs that i can trust to be kind and understanding and nuanced, but it means that the majority of the content i see is about antisemitism and the war. after a while, it becomes draining to scroll through what feels like endless sadness. i turned to looking at fandom tags instead of following fandom blogs, but it makes me feel equally as insane to click on a blog about race cars and immediately see a post with 60k notes calling what’s happening in gaza “the new holocaust”. i started going back on twitter, but fan accounts on there too are only safe for a day or so before the account owner shares some awful antisemitic tweet from an account known to be an anti-jewish extremist. i went back on instagram briefly, but i was soon afraid to look at people’s stories for fear i’d see something terrible and lose yet another trusted person from my life.
in person, i have to walk by signs saying “zionism = genocide” and hastily scribbled palestinian flags with the colors in the wrong spot on my way to class every day. a wall across from my apartment says “BDS” in giant letters. i haven’t opened my curtains in months because of it. a “protest” of about 25 people stood in the center of campus and yelled and waved their fists in passing students’ faces, so jewish students didn’t go to class on any of the days they gathered. i only have one non jewish friend left at school - the rest abandoned me because i either called them out on antisemitic rhetoric or refused to go along with the idea that anyone, palestinian or israeli, muslim or jewish, is less than human. i had taken several of them along to our hillel’s seder in the past. i don’t know who i can safely go with this year. i have a few jewish friends, of course, but i love bringing goyische friends with little connection to judaism along to experience how joyful and loving jewish holidays can be.
it feels like there is no escape from this fucking war. it sickens me that it’s the only thing people pretend to care about - where is the attention for sudan, ukraine, armenia, uyghurs in china, syria, guyana? how is putting an emoji in your twitter bio or putting a translucent overlay of the palestinian flag on your tumblr icon any sort of real activism? how have we gone from “antisemitism is wrong” to “(((zionists))) control the world media”? it seems like the war is a fandom to these people. it seems like nobody cares enough to fully read and think critically about what they share, let alone do real research beyond looking at an infographic somebody shared on their instagram story. they’ll add on “don’t forget your click today!” to an unrelated twitter thread that went viral, flip the bird at the local starbucks, and put “won’t you free my palestine” on their instagram stories. they’ll anonymously tell a jew online to commit suicide. they’ll feel secure in the knowledge that they’re the perfect leftist, that this is somehow “good trouble”. all this praxis, and nothing to show for it but massive surges in hate crimes against jews. good job, guys! you singlehandedly saved every innocent person in gaza!
it’s isolating. it’s scary. jews can’t mourn. jews can’t be angry. jews can’t disagree. jews can’t suffer. jews can’t be whole, complex people with diverse beliefs and experiences. suffering is a game, and the goal is to hurt the most, scream the most, die the most, all to appease western leftists whose closest connection to war and violence was reading the hunger games in middle school.
i’m tired of it all. i want a peaceful and just resolution to the war. i want the mindless hatred everywhere to stop. i want to be able to scroll through social media and see nothing but fandom. i want to walk through campus with my magen david showing and all the friends i lost by my side on the way to the hillel seder. i want to open my curtains again. i know the experience of one diaspora jew is nothing compared to what people living in israel and palestine are currently going through, yet i still need this all to end. i don’t think any of us can go on like this, but we must, because we have. for thousands of years, we’ve gone on. that still doesn’t mean it has to be this hard all the time.
all i can think is “now we are slaves. next year may we be free.” now we are slaves to hatred and violence and suffering. next year may we all be free. next year may we all be in jerusalem.
.
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fancifulplaguerat · 21 hours
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I want to talk about Georgiy Kain. Fr find that miserable old man so compelling. Imo the best way to analyze Georgiy is through his attitude surrounding Simon’s death, which is whole-hearted denial clearly predicated on Georgiy’s symbolic interpretation of Simon’s death. This is repeated ad nauseam in Georgiy’s dialogue with Clara and Daniil in their respective routes, and I shall start with Daniil. 
Georgiy insists to Daniil that “Simon could not have died a natural death, so murder is the only feasible explanation” and “under no circumstances could my brother die a natural death.” When Daniil explains that Simon died of plague, Georgiy pushes back and insists that without tangible proof he won’t credit Daniil. He says, “If what you say is true, doctor, the labour of our life is condemned. We will seek a different answer till the very end.” This introduces that Simon’s death denotes the Kains’ downfall to Georgiy, and his apparent desperation towards this is evident in his emphatic denial and repetition of this sentiment. For instance, he tells Daniil “Till the very last moment I will hope that the murderer does exist […] if you’re right, that is a death sentence for us all. Look for the murderer as long as you can.” Georgiy somewhat shows his hand here, given that he will “hope” a murder exists and accordingly implores that Daniil look for a murderer “as long as he can.”
I think my dearest Victor provides further evidence for Georgiy’s desperation-informed denial, as if Daniil asks whether Simon’s death resulted from his experiments, Victor says, “I think, between me and you, that this is precisely what my brother Georgiy fears.” But even rational Victor echoes Georgiy’s interpretation of Simon’s death: “the cause of Simon’s death is much too significant. It seems we are on the brink of a realization that will be a death warrant to all of us—and, more importantly, to our life’s work. Georgiy wants to exhaust all possibilities of finding proof that he is mistaken.” Georgiy seemingly explains this potential death warrant under Clara Oath, in a confession which contains the same sentiments as his exhortations to Daniil. That is, Georgiy claims that “if [Simon’s] death was not a tragic accident but the ruling of some remorseless law, it will mean that our family's entire cause has been condemned. The town will perish. […] I will try to keep believing that his death was an accident. For as long as I can keep this belief alive, I'll be able to strive for our creation to flourish as it always did.”
So, I think this reflects Patho Classic’s broader narrative as presented in Clara’s Route; that the Plague is the Law attempting to correct itself as the Utopians broke it with the Polyhedron. The Kains appear aware that some calamity was looming, as Maria claimed that they had expected it, and with all the Kains’ manipulation of Daniil as a successor I think the Kains knew they were fucked to Hell and back and that Simon’s “death” (infection) was the nail in the coffin. Especially since Georgiy characterises Simon’s death as the “ruling of some remorseless law” if it were not murder, which Imo evokes characters like Katerina, Griff, and Anna in the Bachelor Route, who claim that Simon’s death was inevitable. This appears further supplement through another dialogue between Georgiy and Daniil: 
Georgiy Kain: We will fight... until the very end. I will personally persecute those who would dare describe this disease as some kind of preordained divine retribution! I will attack anyone who would say Simon got what he deserved! Finally, I will not allow anyone to say that what Simon has built by ceaseless labour is subject to inevitable destruction. Bachelor: Retribution for what? [or] Is it really inevitable? So this omnipresent fatalism is in your nature too? Georgiy Kain: Sooner or later the one who dares challenge the mechanics of nature will pay the price. But this is not something we'd want to believe, is it? This is a conclusion drawn by people who tend to mistake their exhaustion for wisdom. However, even an echo would sometimes grow to become deafening noise. If people keep saying we're doomed, they might well bring about our extinction.
Two main points here. Firstly, Georgiy directly addresses disease as divine retribution, and his impassioned claim to persecute anyone who describes it as such again exemplifies his apparent desperation. Likewise Georgiy’s response to Simon references the inevitable destruction which Simon’s death apparently heralds. Yet I think this dialogue also suggests that Georgiy’s denial is not truly denial in the conventional sense, but an attempt to rewrite what has happened. That is, I find it pertinent that Georgiy claims that people may doom themselves if they *say* so—Georgiy apparently believes in performative utterance, or that speech can change reality. Thus perhaps he holds that if he empathetically claims that Simon died of murder, he could somehow manifest this in reality and preclude the inevitable downfall of his family and their labours. Georgiy thus echoes a consistent theme I’ve noticed in Patho (particularly in Clara’s Route) that individuals’ beliefs can influence reality’s course. Yulia even addresses this in respect to Simon: “People like [Simon] are a natural hazard. Their mission exists as long as they believe in it, and others suffer from its consequences.” Yulia’s dialogue suggests to me that Georgiy’s denial is an attempt at a performative speech act—that as long as he *believes* in Simon’s murder, his death was neither inevitable nor divine retribution, and thus the Kains are not doomed.
I am presenting for the jury my main evidence Georgiy’s admission that “Till the very last moment I hoped that my brother’s demise was of… mechanical nature. That he had suffered a violent death. I was waiting so eagerly for it to be proven. The cause of his death will undoubtedly become the reason all of us will die. So it’s the Plague after all…” Which Imo confirmed that the Plague is indeed the Law attempting to put the utopians back in line. This also seems apparent in Victor/Georgiy’s contrasting perspectives on Simon’s death and how they view Clara: Georgiy clings to his conviction that Clara is Simon’s murderer, and Victor is more merciful towards her. Victor’s mercy could ofc be personality difference, but there seems more to it, as he tells Clara, “Saddened though I am on Simon’s account, I am nonetheless not so foolish as to be angry with you. Only a fool would curse and threaten the wind that has torn the sail off his mast. Besides, unlike Georgiy, I profoundly doubt the imminence of your victory.” Victor apparently doubts the plague necessarily means the Kains’ downfall—perhaps he has more faith in another way out, presumably through Daniil and Maria. 
Victor also interestingly claims that “I’m doing everything I can to make [Georgiy] face the terrible truth. Simon wasn’t immortal” but Georgiy claims “Immortality is the greatest secret humanity is forbidden to posses. Still, my brother managed to break the seal that locked it away from everyone else.” I have no precise explanation for this disparity, but I have a Theory based in Georgiy’s dynamic with Simon. That is, Georgiy is particularly concerned with Simon’s soul rather than Simon as his brother. This somewhat manifests in how Georgiy’s denial seemingly rests in what Simon’s death represents, but is dragged out into the open through Clara’s “hook” for Georgiy’s soul: “Georgiy, oh Georgiy, I know of you this: you didn’t love* Simon, and you were no twin of his.” (*The translation is “you didn’t like” Simon, but the Russian uses любил and frankly that is too catastrophic a difference in meaning). This initially seems somewhat counterintuitive given how Georgiy’s relationship to Simon is defined by other characters; Victor claims “There’s no tradition Georgiy wouldn’t disregard for Simon’s sake” and Nina (as Victor) says “Georgiy Kain, who so ardently desired eternal life for his brother, has committed himself in entirety to Simon’s Memory.” In combination with Georgiy’s little denial-sponsored murder mystery, it seems somewhat out of left field, but ! I think it suggests the point I want to make that Georgiy’s care for Simon is for his soul, not his brother. 
For my damning I-rest-my-case evidence I offer Rubin’s claim that “I won’t be able to bring Simon back, but I might try to discover his secret. If Georgiy cares more about his brother’s mission than his person, he’ll agree.” Because Georgiy does just that !! Even though Rubin and others are bewildered that Georgiy chooses to forgive him rather than smite him dead for snatching Simon’s body. This seems more likely given that Georgiy explicitly tells Daniil that “It isn’t Simon himself that we [the Kains] need—but the power of creation he wields. We live for its sake. Simon is not the Polyhedron’s purpose; rather, Simon’s purpose was to allow such Polyhedrons to spring up in this world.” Another circumstantial detail is that Georgiy is routinely described a fanatic above anyone else in the Kain family, apparently obsessed with their mission.
Now everyone stay with me but. I do think that Simon Kain was a living breathing twin of Georgiy, but that he is potentially holding an immortal soul passed down through the Kain family, since the Kains have practiced reincarnation for five generations and Georgiy routinely discusses Simon’s soul as its own entity. Also how the game complicates whether Simon *really* exists, because on the one hand, Rubin and Victor’s dialogues indicate that he did. When Daniil asks whether Simon truly existed, Victor claims: “There is indeed a spark of genius to you. Alas… yes. Yes, he did […] Alas—for that would be too simple an explanation. Simon well and truly did exist.” Likewise Rubin: “You think I don’t know what Simon looked like? You think his greatness, his noble visage, is comparable to his brother or anyone else?” This may explain the contrast between Victor and Georgiy’s conceptions of him—that Victor thinks of Simon more as his brother, and Georgiy as the “soul of creation” for which the Kains live, capable of becoming quasi-divine or an udurgh, with the Polyhedron as his new body. I mean. This theory is not perfect but it helps me sleep at night. 
On that note of “comparable to his brother,” I also want to examine some possible jealousy of Georgiy’s. In particular because Patho insists that Georgiy cannot replace Simon, which seemingly seeks to suggest that Georgiy was lesser to Simon. Clara can ask Georgiy outright whether he will replace Simon, and Georgiy claims “None of us [the Kains] would be able to advance and sustain the town in the way Simon did,” which suggests that he recognizes an inferiority to Simon. Then there is all that Victor Lore which I will throw on the table again, where the Stamatins claim that Victor could succeed Simon. Peter says, “I think [Victor’s] waiting for Georgiy to make an unpopular move to finally show his real face. Just kidding,” and Andrey claims, “Victor was a good disciple to Simon. He’ll manage to renew his achievement. Georgiy won’t,” and “Victor is a natural born ruler; he could be doing it all by himself. It’s Victor, not Georgiy, who is Simon’s true heir.” Even goddamn Daniil is framed as an heir for Simon over Georgiy. Now. I DO NOT think this is literal, that Victor or Daniil (<3) are capable of what Simon was. Rather, this is more about Victor’s leadership and that Victor is pragmatic and Georgiy too fanatic. In fact, it seems like Georgiy’s Achilles’ heel is indeed his fanaticism; that is why he could never replace Simon, because he is just oh so obsessed. BUT. I think it’s interesting that there is one way Georgiy was apparently Simon’s intellectual superior: he created the philosophy of Focus and Memory. 
Victor explicitly informs the player that Georgiy “had rather simplistic views on the connection between the human body and the soul. Disregarding the opinions of theologians and philosophers, and ignoring serious studies on the subject, he worked out a doctrine of his own. Try to imagine our shock when it turned out to be true. […] We don't understand it ourselves. This necrosophy was probably the only area in which Georgiy had surpassed his great brother. No one knows why, but his recipes for communicating with the dead did work. All this terminology—‘Memory', 'the Focus’—is of his coinage.” The phrasing of “surpassed” is what again suggests some potential competition between Georgiy and Simon. Then Georgiy elucidates his methodology in dialogues with Daniil, which I am compelled to include for my personal reference: 
“Dealing with the dead calls for scientific precision, doctor. I reality there is neither magic, nor necromancy. […] There is life after death. That much is certain. A man most certainly has a soul. And that soul certainly belongs to a better world—more so than to the one it leaves behind. Trying to prolong the time the soul has to stay here is not doing it any favours” and “To bring one’s dearly departed back to life [….] The fact of the matter is that the dead linger inside us—their living counterparts […] the dead may be brought back to life by the focussed emotions of the living.” Given that the Kains have apparently practiced reincarnation for centuries, Georgiy thus appears to have innovated or improved upon this methodology, and in do doing did one thing Simon could not, but still in service Simon—or rather, Simon’s immortal soul.  
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puppymlovee · 2 days
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pairing: ot8!straykids x fem!reader
genre: fluff
warnings: cursing
i wanna thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the support!!—🍥🐶
~You’re in a relationship with skz members and it’s going pretty well!~
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Reader:
I’m currently working on a project i have for work while some of the boys are gone to get food and the others are laying on the couch watching a movie.
I’ve been trying to get it done for a few hours now and always something is happening- “Noona!!” the youngest member calls “Yes Innie?” i respond still writing on my laptop trying to get my work done “Noona come here!!” he looks at me waiting for my response “Innie sweetheart i’m working right now i’ll come when im-’’ “Please Noona!” Han face cries while getting on his knees “Okay okay i’m coming” i rolled my eyes and saved my work so i can finish it later, as i’m walking to the couch the door opens,the others are here “We are back!” Chan says while taking off his coat and shoes “What did you get!?” Seungmin asks “We got fried chicken and noodles for everyone” Lee know answers and starts serving us food.
Well before we eat we want to watch a. movie but it always ends up with arguments “Fuck no you picked the movie last time!” Hyunjin yells at Changbin “You won’t die if i pick again!”Binnie responds, he’s right i mean everyone else focuses on eating right now not who is picking the movie, “I will!” Hyunjin fake faints, laughter fills the air as Changbin pick as movie and we all start eating.
“I’m so full!” Lee know complains while we all lay back so we can rest, Jeongin is beside me, his head on my shoulder and on the other side is Felix caressing my thigh. “Innie change your sit with me” Han says “Huh!?Yeah no shit keep dreaming i want noona next to me”Jeongin replies while the others laugh and he starts holding my arm tight, “Innie baby i sleep in your bed today let Hannie change his sit for now” i giggle looking at his pouty face “Okay okay but you own me Hyung!” he says while pointing at Han, Han laughs and changes sits with Jeongin so he’s beside me now, hearing Jeongin mumbling while sitting down away from me now, he puts his head on my lap and i start playing with his hair while we continue watching the movie.
After the movie is finished we all get up and clean up the room, as i’m washing the dishes i feel hands creepin around my waist and it gives me goosebumps, it’s Chan “Hey baby” he whispers in my ear, i smile “Hey Chan” he gives me a kiss on the neck “Come on let’s cuddle all together” he suggests “One moment Channie i need to finish the dishes” i respond while trying to finish them faster “Yes baby i’ll wait for you” he smiles sitting down on the chair behind me by the table.As i’m done i dry my hands with a hand towel and walk over to Chan giving him a warm kiss “Let’s go!” i say holding his hand so he can get up, we all lay on the couch again snuggling together “Noona i miss you!” Seungmin says while fake crying being too far to even touch my leg “i miss you too honey!” i fake cry back while giggling.
The rest of the night goes like this, us cuddling and the boys play fighting “Take your foot off of my face before i bite it off!” Lee know threatened Han while Han was messing with him laughter was filling the room once again.
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I’m sorry it’s pretty small!!I hope you like it tho—🐭🎀
𐙚you can always request if you wanna see something specific!!Thank you so much for the support!—🩷
Lots of love kat‧₊˚
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1dmonthlyficroundup · 8 hours
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— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —
Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for March 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​. You can find all our other posts here.
Happy reading!
* Why Don’t We Start Writing The Story Of Us by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa [T, 6k, Louis/Harry]
Immediately after the words left his mouth, Louis wanted to face palm himself. Nerves always brought out joking as a deflection technique, it was almost an instinct.
Harry only looked up long enough to reply with a flat, “no,” before turning back to his book.
“Alright,” Louis said, rocking forward on the balls of his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll, uh… leave you to it.”
OR Alpha Louis and Omega Harry get off on the wrong foot, Louis has the worst timing, and Harry believes in second chances. Three times Louis asks Harry on a date and the one time Harry accepts
* The Room Thief by @2tiedships2 [NR, 12k, Harry/Louis]
Louis: Can I come over? Need your help.
Niall: Did someone die? I don’t need to help you bury a body do I? Wait, did you behead one of your alpha flatmates? I hope it was the one that smells like cherries. That is such a weird scent for an alpha. It’s disturbing. And I can’t even smell it.
Louis: I’ve just been kicked out. Can I crash on your couch?
Niall: Zayn’s in class. I’m here so get over here NOW.
Louis: Thanks mate. Gonna pack a few things and will head over. Be there in about a half hour.
When Louis comes home and is confronted by his knothead alpha flatmates, he knows it won’t result in anything good, but he didn’t expect to be left homeless, effective immediately. He definitely didn’t expect to fall for the specific knothead who stole his room.
* Half Agony, Half Hope by asphodelknox / @iamasphodelknox [E, 33k+, wip, Louis/Harry]
Harry had never believed the rumors of the beast at the manor on the hill. They sounded like something from Twilight or an old Hollywood horror film, a beautiful man who turned into a beast once a month and killed anyone who was unlucky enough to be stuck on the manor’s grounds.
Yeah, right. The manor was probably just creepy and old. Besides, it’s not like he had anything else to do.
Harry's had enough of his shit year. Had enough of his shit ex and the fact that he graduated from university with no idea what to do next or what to do with the grief. Ed dares him to spend a month at the crumbling Tomlinson manor, and Harry goes cause what else do you do when your life's fallen apart?
It's not really haunted anyway... is it?
* when the time is right by refusethyname / @refusethyname28 [E, 146k, Harry/Louis]
“Do you live in the cabin by yourself?” Louis then decided to ask.
“I do, well sort of, I have a cat.”
“A cat?” Louis then asked and Harry nodded happily.
“She’s a precious thing, but she always leaves me for this one customer who is staying at one of the cabins. His name is Tomlin-something, I can’t really recall,” Harry said, causing Louis to chuckle this time. The singer shook his head at Harry’s comment and smiled brightly at him. Harry was truly something else and Louis’ heart fluttered.
“He sounds like an absolute arse if he steals your cat,” Louis chuckled and Harry shook his head at that.
“On the contrary, he is extremely thoughtful, didn’t even mind it too much when I spilled my hot tea over him, how is your stomach by the way?” Harry then asked.
“If this is your way of trying to get me to undress again,” Louis joked and Harry’s cheeks grew bright red. The younger man started stammering some incoherent things and quickly averted his gaze, which Louis thought was absolutely adorable.
Or the cabin fic where falling in love underneath the northern lights only leads to heartbreak.
* I Found the Earth (Not Leaving Now) by mmaree / @zqua1d [M, 34k, Zayn/Liam]
Liam watches the ball of light as it traces the sky then starts to dip below the tree-line. It’s larger than any shooting star he has ever seen before.
He makes a wish.
Alien Zayn + Human Liam | A love story inspired by the song “If I Got You”
* Your hand in my hand, so still and discreet by flamboyo / @riverswater [E, 4k, Louis/Harry]
“It was about how cold he was under me. How still. It was knowing that even if he had died, even if he was already dead, he would still be mine.”
Louis thought he knew each one of his boyfriend’s stories, secrets, and kinks. Turns out Harry was keeping a crucial one hidden away.
* Scared That My Worst is the Best That I’ve Got by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 [M, 5k, Harry/Louis]
So while Louis’ proposition is preposterous, it’s also the only compromise his brain seems willing to make at the moment.
Harry slowly raises his head to look at Louis. He’s standing on the other side of the kitchen, elbow resting casually on the edge of the counter next to the sink. His expression is soft and patient, and there’s delicate morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows behind him, setting his outlined silhouette aglow. He looks like an angel.
An angel in an old oversized adidas jumper with tattoos on his knuckles, but an angel all the same.
Harry’s voice comes out mumbled and much smaller than he’d like, but it is what it is. As Louis always says.
“Just shampoo?”
(Or five times Louis saves Harry from himself, and one time when Louis is the one that needs the saving).
* I’ll tell you something (I hope you’ll understand) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright [E, 2k, Louis/Harry]
Louis insists that Harry stay off her phone and in the safety of Louis' room rather than risk moping in her own texting her ex-boyfriend. When Harry agrees on one condition, Louis' safe night in could become something else entirely.
* sunshine, baby! by staybeautiful / @harruandlou [E, 106k, Harry/Louis]
Louis was the first one down the row for their group. If he hadn’t been they would have never met.
He was turned around, walking backwards and saying to Liam, “No, I’ll get you to a real footie match next,” when he bumped into someone.
“Oops,” Louis laughed, tripping over his own feet. A hand curled around his upper arm as he nearly fell over the seat in front of him. “Sorry about that, mate.”
He turned around, still teetering in his vans, to apologize again, but the words dried in his throat. Another hand gripped his other elbow, steadying him, but all Louis could see were green eyes and dimples.
“Hi,” the man laughed, a bright, bubbling sound. “Are you okay?”
Or Louis is in his first year of law school, Harry is a junior on the swim team dreaming of the Olympics, and they both agree that they don't have time for anything more than friends with benefits... right?
- Podfics -
* Truth or Drink by @kingsofeverything read by @podfic-pals [M, 6k, Louis/Harry]
Truth or Drink | Exes
Harry and Louis broke up years ago, and they're seeing each other again for the first time to play Truth or Drink. On camera.
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neo404 · 2 days
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If you have the chance could you possibly continue Proud of you, buddy . Maybe it could be him asking the boy out and calling nick to tell him or him coming out to the family and nick just there supporting him through it ( also wanted to tell you that i love your stories )
Proud of you, buddy. Part 2.
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Summary: after talking with Nick, you stayed up all night thinking about confessing your feelings to Jackson, you decided that tomorrow (Friday) will be the best day to do it, since it will be the start of your summer break.
Tw: cursing.
I wanted this to be perfect. Last night I couldn’t sleep, so I made it Nicks problem.
‘’You know I am bad at crafts.’’ He said while folding the color papers I gave him.
‘’I know, but I need help. This paper bouquet won’t do itself.’’ Nick rolls his eyes.
‘’What are you doing anyways that you don’t do the bouquet for your boyfriend.’’
‘’He’s not my boyfriend, shut up. I’m writing him a letter.’’ I blush and look down at the empty piece of paper infront of me.
‘’Oh boy, teenage love is so cute, I feel like a grandpa right now.’’
‘’Yeah, ‘cus you are old.’’ I laugh and he scoffs.
‘’I won’t help you anymore, then. My hands are too old to be folding these tiny papers’’
‘’NO, it was a joke, you are as young as a baby.’’ he laughs and keeps folding the papers.
‘’Hey, I know it can be scary, just write what you feel, yeah?’’ I nod and let out a sigh. Starting to write on the paper.
We talked until it was too late, we laughed and he shared his experiences declaring to boys and things like that. I knew I was close with my older brother, but I feel like this brought us even closer. I ended up sleeping 3 and a half hours, the next morning I was looking rough, Nick woke up early to help me pick an outfit and to drop me off to school with dad.
‘’Remember buddy, breath and say what you feel.’’ I nod and he pats my shoulder. I walk into my first period which was chemistry, I have to wait until 4th period to talk to Jackson.
I talk with my friends; I laugh with them. But I can’t shake away the though of Jackson and what he might say. I take deep breathes on the halls as I change classrooms, 3rd period ends and I’m walking into my english literature class, I feel some arms wrap around me, I look besides me and see Jackson smiling at me.
‘’Hi, why didn’t you wait for me?’’ he asks me.
‘’Oh, shit. I forgot.’’
‘’You forgot about me? AUCH. My heart, I am dying.’’ He grabs his chest dramatically and puts most of the weight of his body on me. ‘’Carry me, I am bleeding out.’’
‘’I didn’t forget about you, I forgot to wait. I didn’t wanted to be late again.’’
‘’Again? We are late to english literature like… 4 times a week?’’
‘’Yes, and we have it 4 times a week, you dumbass.’’ He stands straight, one arm still around my shoulder.
‘’Right, I forget. What would I do without you?’’
‘’Probably die.’’ He laughs
‘’True. You are my savior.’’ We enter the classroom and sit on out places, which are next to each other, we share table because the teacher says Jackson pays more attention and gets better grades when he’s with me, I think it’s because he just copies everything I do.
‘’Good morning class.’’ The teacher enters the classroom with a mug of coffee on her hand and starts talking about what we will do today.
‘’Hey, Jack.’’ I whisper and punch him softly.
‘’Hm?’’
‘’Can we talk at the end of the day?’’ I ask trying to not sound nervous.
‘’Yeah. Why not now?’’
‘’You’ll see. Just pay attention to what she’s saying.’’
‘’All right, Mr. Favorite Student.’’
The rest of the day went smoothly, Jackson and I lunched together as always. I wrote to Nick on the bathroom because I was panicking. At the end of the day Nick told me he will be waiting for me with a giant ice cream container, to celebrate or just in case.
I was outside the building, on the quiet part, where people didn’t hang around as much. I looked at Jackson approaching with a wide smile on his face.
‘’Heyo! What is it that you wanted to talk about?’’
‘’It’s a bit complicated.’’ His smile fades and nods.
‘’It’s all right dude, whatever you need I’m here to listen.’’ He pats my shoulder and sits on the ground, his back against the school bricks. I sit beside him.
‘’Well, there is something I’d like to give you.’’ His eyes widen and smiles again.
‘’Bring it out man.’’ I take a deep breath and take out of my backpack the card and the little paper bouquet. ‘’Aw, dude, that’s so cute. Thanks. Is it our anniversary or something? Why are you gifting me flowers honey?’’ he jokes, as he often does. I shrug my shoulders and point at the card. ‘’Yeah right, I should read it.’’ He reads it quietly, he bites his lip while doing so, a small smile on his face, I look down at my hands and try to not cry on stop. ‘’Shit, you are such a dork.’’ I feel his hand grabbing my face and turning my face to him, he kisses my lips. ‘’I like you too, dumbass. Can I be your boyfriend?’’
‘’What? Really.’’ My brain feels dizzy, I’m trying to process what jus happened. ‘’YES, yes.’’ After I can keep rambling, he kisses me again. We break the kiss because my phone is ringing.
‘’Where the fuck are you?’’ Matts voice sound on my ear.
‘’Shit, sorry. I lost track of time. I’m on my way.’’ I close the call and give Jackson a small kiss on the lips. ‘’Bye, see you at the dinner.’’
‘’Bye. I will be there, wait for me.’’
I rush to the car, a big smile on my face.
‘’Damn buddy, what got you so happy?’’
‘’Matt… I have a boyfriend!’’ Matt looks at me dead in the eyes and blinks twice.
‘’That’s amazing, I’m proud of you buddy.’’ He gives me a small hug and starts driving home. ‘’Is he a good guy?’’
‘’Yes, he’s really kind.’’
‘’Does he know you have 4 older brother that can beat him up?’’
‘’Yes, he knows. He’s cool Matt.’’
‘’He better be.’’
We arrive home and I swing the door open, Nick is sitting on the couch, already eating some of the ice cream.
‘’HE SAID YES!’’ Nick stands up from the couch, his eyes wide open.
‘’OH MY GOD, YEEES!!!’’ he hugs me and we jump happily.
‘’What am I missing?’’ Chris who was also eating the ice cream looks at us confused. ‘’Matt, who the fuck said yes?’’
‘’Don’t ask me, the news are as new to me as they are to you.’’ He messes up my hair as he passes by Nick and I.
‘’Chris. I have a boyfriend.’’
‘’A what?...’’ he stares at me for a few seconds. ‘’DAMN, THAT’S NICE, BUDDY. Come here, hug your older brother.’’ He walks over to me and Nick and hugs the both of us. ‘’Be who you aaaare.’’
‘’To soon, Chris.’’ Nick mutters.
‘’Oh shit, sorry.’’ He chuckles. ‘’Proud of you, buddy. When will we get to meet him?’’
‘’He’s coming for mom’s birthday.’’
‘’Oh, that’s cool.’’ Nick says.
‘’Yeah, I think I’ll tell mom, dad and Justin that day.’’
‘’Sounds like a plan.’’ Chris says. Then looks at Matt that was sitting on the couch. ‘’Don’t be a grumpy fuck Matt, come hug your brothers.’’ Matt smiles and gets up to hug us.
‘’Thank you guys, you are the best.’’
‘’We are.’’ Nick says.
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lilnasxvevo · 2 months
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I usually headcanon most non-canon ships I like as childfree partially out of contrarianism (I hate when people ASSUME two people will have kids just because they’re in love) and partially because I don’t want kids and this is my house and I am here mainly to project onto fictional characters
But lawlu? Ohhhh they’re having kids. They’re HAVING kids. Law might not know it yet but they WILL be having multiple children
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wigglys-dikrats · 1 year
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i will be blocking so many spoiler tags for npmd and may honestly take a partial tumblr hiatus and only post occasionally because i reeeeeeally don’t want npmd spoilers and am willing to wait however long for the show to come to youtube
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imidori-ya · 3 days
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Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros is literal hot garbage and I will die on this hill.
#like it’s literally one of the worst constructed/written books I have ever encountered#how on earth could Yarros be married to a 20+ year military vet and yet still not even understand the most basic military concepts#it’s honestly astounding how brain dead her characters are#the way she writes makes it abundantly obvious that she thinks her readers are a bunch of idiots#who need every single story theme and element hand fed to them#the introduction of Varrish was just utter bullshit#she could have painted ‘VILLAIN’ on his forehead and it would’ve been less obvious#please tell us again how smart your main character is while she proceeds to do the dumbest shit I’ve ever seen#‘oh why won’t xaden trust me with rebellion secrets even though I basically announce my suspicions of the empire at every turn?’#idk violet maybe it’s bc you won’t do the mind training they’ve been telling you to do#so you’re constantly vulnerable to the mindreader YOU KNOW PERSONALLY#maybe that’s why no one tells you anything???#also holy shit her being like ‘I have to be careful and not let the empire know I’m questioning my duties’#and then immediately crashing into a scribe meeting to request more red flag reading??#like??? was she kicked in the head???#also the dragons stating multiple times that humans are basically like ants to them and they don’t care if they live or die#but simultaneously having to somehow be subserveant to the military????#bitch why weren’t you all enslaved by the dragons#this is such nonsense#also her prose is ass#come back when you can tell the difference between parse and parcel Rebecca#yeah a lot of my complaints are iron flame related#but that’s just bc it really hit home how bad this all is with the second book#net zero improvement#way to fail downwards Rebecca#ALSO!! what evil empire would conscript their enemies children into the one branch of their military where they get DRAGONS and SUPERPOWERS#like what??!!#in what world#what military would be so afraid of a new rebellion that they conscript the people with deep emotional ties to the old rebellion???#if real militaries worked this way there would be no more war bc we’d all be dead
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